


Who The Hell Calls it A

by QuattleWaddle



Category: Voltron: Defender of the Universe, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: He's mentioned like once though, M/M, Okay let me start by saying how sorry I am?, Pidge is male here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 20:42:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7948369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuattleWaddle/pseuds/QuattleWaddle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Can I—I wanted to try something new,” Lance mumbled. Keith stopped, his eyes widening. Was he asking for…? They hadn’t gone any farther than grinding and handjobs, really, but if he was asking, who was Keith to say no?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who The Hell Calls it A

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gayspaceboy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayspaceboy/gifts).



> I'M SO SORRY

“Lance, can you at least wait until we’re in the room?” Keith hissed under his breath, arching to push off the wall so he could make it the few extra steps to his door next to them.

Lance had not-so-sneakily followed Keith back to his room, being an impatient little _shit_ , and had himself all over Keith the second they were out of sight of everyone else. And you know what? They wouldn’t even be in this position if it weren’t for Lance side eyeing him the _entire time they ate supper._ Lance has these gorgeous blue eyes that turn deep and intense when he really wanted something, really, Keith was so _weak_ —

 _Wrong train of thought right now,_ Keith chided himself, clicking his tongue, _you’re on a personal mission._

Keith wiggled underneath Lance’s hands, moving his own hand away from Lance’s chest so that he could reach the door beside them. It was _right there_ , if he just moved a little farther to the left, then he could activate the motion sensors.

Lance took Keith’s hand moving out of his way as an invitation instead, pressing his thigh between Keith’s legs and dragging his teeth against his earlobe. Keith shuddered as cold hands slipped under his shirt.

“Mm, couldn’t wait, sorry,” Lance mumbled out his half-assed apology between the wet kisses he was planting down Keith’s neck. He placed one behind his ear, left a trail of them down his jaw and dragged them slowly, _slowly_ down the column of his throat. That was _unfair_ , Lance _knows_ Keith is a weak sunnovabitch. But as much as Keith was enjoying this, he wasn’t in the mood for an accidental voyeur to come around the corner.

God forbid it be _Pidge,_ they’d never hear the end of it from him.

They had to move. _Now._

“No you aren’t,” Keith sighed, tipping his head back to revel in the attention a little longer before reaching up and tugging Lance by his hair, rough enough to yank him back and detach his lips from making darker hickeys. Keith fully expected some dumbass retort on Lance’s lips that he’d shut up with kisses immediately, but a _moan_ was not something he thought he would hear. The noise had them both in immediate silence.

Keith looked at Lance’s face.

Lance couldn’t meet Keith’s eyes, his face and ears burning and his mask of bravado cracking in multiple places.

“...We’re going to talk about that later,” Keith mumbled, his own cheeks flaring pink as he pushed himself from under Lance and marched right into his room, Lance hot on his heels.

The situation had rendered them speechless for a quick second while the door slid closed with a _swoosh_ and a click, the boys fidgeting in place before Keith gestured lamely with his hand and mumbled, “Bed?”

“Way to set the mood,” Lance snorted and gracelessly sat down on the edge of bed. Keith walked over to him and shoved his shoulder with a laugh, lifting his leg so he could straddle Lance’s lap, but Lance put a hand up and stopped him. He pushed his leg back down and spread his legs to fit Keith snug between them.

“Nuh uh, you always take the lead. It’s my turn, alright?” Lance blinked up at Keith and _wow_ those _fucking eyes, goddammit how do I say no to that._

Keith swallowed hard, feeling his neck and face heat up again as he choked out a soft, “S-sure.” If his voice cracked, nobody needed to know.

Lance having control of the situation was _a religious experience_.

Keith already struggled not to fidget all the time _outside_ of the bedroom, but not being able to touch and move how he wanted was a lot more taxing on his self-restraint than it should be. Keith grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled it over his head, shaking his hair out when he came out of it (as if _that_ would help the unruly mess he claimed wasn’t bedhead).

Keith looked down and found Lance staring at his face, mumbling a quiet “What are you looking at?” As he broke eye contact.

“You,” Lance spoke shamelessly, leaning forward and pressing kisses down his stomach. Keith started at that, but practically melted under Lance’s kisses. He placed his hands on his shoulders and leaned forward a bit, his body relaxing under Lance’s ministrations.

Reluctantly, Keith leaned his body back and tilted Lance’s chin up to meet his eyes. Their eyes locked, and Keith leaned down and kissed him with renewed vigor, pressing his tongue into his mouth so _easily_ , like a rhythm they couldn’t forget.

Keith didn’t think he could handle Lance’s eyes right now anyway, and _god_ did he want him.

Lance let Keith crawl into his lap, thighs on either side of his lap while his hands gripped Keith’s hips. He groaned when Keith shifted forward, and Keith smiled against Lance’s lips. He treasured whenever he got this stuck-up-asshole vocal.

The both of them shuddered and groaned when Keith rolled his hips again, Lance’s grip tightening on his waist. Their rhythm was in full swing; hot, open mouthed kisses were leaving a searing trail down Keith’s neck and chest and he couldn’t help but be loud about his pleasure. Everything with Lance felt so in sync, and he was loving every minute of it.

Keith reached between them to pop the buttons on their jeans and Lance leaned backward, crossing his arms down his chest and tugging the hem of his shirt over his head. Keith noticed a distinct lack of Lance’s hands _not_ on him and looked up, barking out a laugh at seeing his boyfriend stuck with his arms and head in his shirt.

“How the _fuck,_ ” Keith rasped, trying to calm down his hysterics long enough to help free Lance from his fabric prison.

“I don’t know, alright!” Lance snapped. When he was freed, Keith saw that his face was flushed a reddish tone and that his ears had followed suit. _Cute,_ Keith thought. “I just— I needed it off—a-and,”

“Yeah, yeah,” Keith sighed, his laughter finally stopping. He brought his hand up and carded his fingers through Lance’s hair. Keith mustered up enough strength to look Lance in the eyes, his voice coming out a lot breathier than he wanted it to when he spoke.

“Just kiss me, would you?”

Lance quit hesitating. He wrapped his arms around Keith’s torso and pulled him down on top of him, kissing him with newfound delicacy. Their tongues danced, Keith gripping Lance’s hair tighter and ripping a moan from his chest. Oh, he was going to have _fun_ with that little fact.

Keith pulled away and mouthed down Lance’s neck, biting just on this side of pain, but not enough to make Lance want to stop. Lance was whimpering and panting under him and Keith leaned back up, sitting back just enough so that his ass sat comfortably against the obvious tent pushing against Lance’s jeans.

Lance keened at the sudden friction, his back arching and hands gripping Keith’s waist tight as he started grinding against him in earnest. There were just too many _damn clothes_ in the way now, and they were both aching for more friction than what jeans allowed.

“H-Hey—oh, _fuck_ —K-Keith,” Lance pressed the back of his hand against his mouth when Keith started circling his hips, trying to focus on just _talking_ , but Keith was making this difficult.

“Yeah?” Keith answered, and he was so proud of how his voice didn’t hitch in the slightest. He sounded in control on himself, but the pink that had spread from his face down to his chest said otherwise. “What is it?”

“Can I—I wanted to try something new,” Lance mumbled. Keith stopped, his eyes widening. Was he asking for…? They hadn’t gone any farther than grinding and handjobs, really, but if he was asking, who was Keith to say no?

No, now is _not_ the time to jump to conclusions, even if he _did_ have everything they needed stashed underneath a few pillows. (Curtesy of Coran, but _we don’t talk about that conversation._ ) He would let Lance ask it.

“O-Okay. I mean—well, what _is it_?”  Keith urged, leaning down and pressing soothing kisses along his shoulders. Keith watched the tension melt away and sighed along with him.

“Well, I um—I wanted to know if you’d—uh,” Lance kept tripping over his words, but Keith didn’t stop his kisses. He trailed them down his chest, his eyes sliding closed while he waited. Keith braced himself for the question, he wanted to hear it _so badly—_

“Would you let me suck your _paladong_?”

Keith halted.

His blood ran cold.

Lance was vibrating under him with barely hidden laughter.

Keith had murder in his eyes.

Lance burst out laughing as Keith crawled backward off of him, standing up and buttoning his pants. He continued to laugh when Keith shrugged his shirt back over his head, but it got a lot more hesitant when Keith reached for his jacket and slipped it on.

“Keith?” Lance questioned, raising an eyebrow. Keith didn’t respond, instead sitting next to Lance and slipping his shoes on, tying them painstakingly slow.

“Keith, babe, hey, c’mon, it was a joke!” Lance laughed again, trying to get a rise out of his boyfriend, but he stopped when Keith didn’t respond. It dawned on Lance that it was too late; the damage had been done, and when he looked shamelessly down at Keith’s crotch he noticed something _awful_.

He’d gone soft. Fucking soft, because Lance said _paladong_ instead of _dick_.

“Oh my god, Keith, _baby, I—_ Keith, wait!”

“Nope.” Keith huffed, stepping up to his door once he finished with his shoes and walking out as soon as I opened.

“Where are you going? This is _your room_.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Ke— “

“No!”

 

###

 

The next morning saw only two paladins and a princess at the table for breakfast.

“Shiro, I believe there’s something wrong with the other paladins.” Allura whispered to the man next to her, a frown etched into her face.

“Oh?” He asked, distracted, dragging his spoon lazily through his green, sloppy breakfast. He wasn’t as focused in the early mornings as he should be.

“Yes,” Allura nodded, pushing her hair back over her shoulders from where it fell, “Lance has not spoken all morning. And Keith is nowhere to be found.”

“That so,”

“And Hunk hasn’t even gotten out of bed yet—gracious, where _is_ everybody?”

Lance sat still, stewing, not acknowledging the other two at the table. He bitterly scarfed down his food, his brows permanently creased so that his face scowled. After last night’s train wreck, he wasn’t in the mood.

 

###

 

Pidge yawned as he walked out of his room. He was late for breakfast, he knew that much, but just about everything else was fuzzy, his brain muddle and clogged with cotton. He really shouldn’t have stayed up late last night.

Slowly he made his way down the hall and towards the dining room, stretching his arms over his head. Everybody else had to be awake, which means he could get the bathrooms and the hallways all quiet and to himself. _Maybe there was a god out there,_ Pidge thought blissfully.

Immediately after the thought crossed his mind he heard loud, stomping footsteps heading straight for him down the hall. He didn’t have the energy to run away from whoever was coming. _No god, then._

It was Keith. His hair was messier than usual, clothes rumpled and wrinkled, and Pidge knew he was in for whatever drama Keith was going to spew about Lance this time.

Keith stomped right up to Pidge, dragged his hands through his hair for the nth time since last night, and inhaled hard, opening his mouth wide as he boomed, “You _will not **believe**_ — “

 

###

 

Breakfast had been fairly quiet. Hunk had finally showed up, having somehow caught a cold despite being nowhere _near_ Earth. The only sound in the room was Hunk’s sniffling and spoons clinking against bowls. Nobody talked or looked at each other.

One by one they began perking up hearing yelling far down one of the halls. Lance heard it first, and he dragged a hand down his rapidly burning face, muttering incoherencies and Spanish while he did so.

Hunk heard it next and promptly ignored it, going back to eating and praying this food didn’t make anything worse.

Allura caught on next, her eyes widening as she cast a glance over her shoulder “Who in the uni— “

The princess was promptly cut off by a very _pissed_ voice screaming, “ _I turned softer than a soggy bowl of cereal! God **fucking** dammit, who **fucking** calls a dick a **paladong, Pidge?!** ”_

The table went dead silent, and the only thing everyone in the castle could hear was Pidge’s wild cackles throughout the castle. Everyone at the table looked pointedly into their goop and began devouring it in earnest. It was a silent agreement that that topic would _never_ come up between the four of them. Ever.

**Author's Note:**

> So my friend convinced me to make this fic and I lost my shit when he drew a picture of Lance in underwear that said "Paladong". I had to write it. I actually had to do it.
> 
> Also this is the first time I'm not posting in the early hours in the morning, look at that marked improvement.
> 
> Wanna scream at me?  
> quattlewaddle.tumblr.com


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